Sleep
The sun was quickly burning out the day, and soon it would be night. Night, Toolo thought miserably. Our last night. He stepped away from the window and turned back to the other delegates. There were twelve of them - thirteen, if he included himself. Each was robed in heavy garb to conceal most of their bodies. It was a lavish gesture, really. Their official robes denoted who they were, but they also showed just how decadent the Kanassans could be. He was sick of their self-indulgence. Especially today. His patience was at its end, a fine string finally cut by the bitter knife’s edge after all these years. He could not stand to be in their presence. “Toolo,” one of them began. Toolo did not know this man’s name, nor did he care to learn it. “How sure are you?” Toolo shrugged. “I am certain of it, as all of you should be as well.” Half of the delegates were gifted with foresight, but Toolo was one of the most celebrated seers on the planet. They all came to him when they wanted to confirmation on a particular event. “Why is that?” another delegate from the back of the crowd shouted. Her voice was thick with the fine cheese she was eating off a small plate. Toolo looked at them, his eyes flickering. “No one can see into the future beyond tonight. This is it. For thousands of years, our ancestors could peer into the future, and not one of them could see a second beyond tonight. It means we are all going to die. Tonight is our last.” “No!” a Kanassan commander shouted. “I will not allow it! My soldiers are well-trained! We will have the full Kanassan might to crush these invaders!” “It won’t be enough,” Toolo said, bowing his head. He knew his voice sounded sad and hopeless, but the situation was hopeless. They were going to die; he had seen it himself. “What we see always comes to pass. And I see the group of giant apes destroying us all. My father and his father before him saw the same thing, and they warned us all what would happen. But none of you listened.” “We will defeat them. We must! We can only lose if we lack resolve!” the commander insisted. The others murmured in agreement. Toolo looked at them, his face mixed with perplextion and disbelief. They had seen it themselves. Are they just too scared to face the truth? Is it easier to believe a hopeful lie than a hopeless truth? They will still die, no matter what they believe. “You may fight well,” Toolo admitted, “but being brave doesn’t mean you will be victorious. Brave men die everyday. Many will die tonight.” The air hung heavy for several moments, with only the wet smacking of the delegates’ jowls offering any sound. They voraciously ate off their food plates as if nothing was going to happen, as if the Kanassan race was not going to be destroyed that very night. They were enjoying themselves, for some reason. Toolo was appalled. “I recommend we adjourn now,” Toolo said. “I want to say goodbye to my family before they are killed.” The sentence was a simple one, and Toolo delivered it without much emotion, but thinking about what he had said immediately afterwards sent daggers through his heart. He almost lost it right then and there, but by grasping onto a nearby marble pillar and controlling his breathing, the Kanassan was able to steady himself and work himself through his sudden emotions. “They won’t die,” the commander replied through his teeth. He had stupid, fishy look about him. His eyes were too big and his face too squat for Toolo to take seriously. “We will win. I promise you that.” “Fine,” Toolo said angrily. “Fight your war. We have all been trained in combat. I’m sure I will see you on the battlefield before the night is over. Maybe we will die together.” The commander went to respond to Toolo, but Toolo raised his hand. “We cannot change what we see; it has always been like that. Our ancestors knew this day was coming. They warned us all. But no one listened. None of you believed them. And now that day is finally here. Maybe it’s unlucky that it was our generation who had to face it, but we cannot change that. Denying a hard truth won’t make it go away. And I won’t waste any more time trying to convince you. I need to see my family and spend these precious few hours we have left with them. If you’ll excuse me, delegates, I must be leaving.” At the conclusion of Toolo’s speech, he stepped away from the group and out through a backdoor. The delegates didn’t even acknowledge him leaving. They were shocked into silence, many of them with their mouths agape, and others with trembling hands. No one had ever talked back to them like Toolo had. They were the rulers of the Kanassan race. They were his superiors. But it didn’t matter to Toolo. There wasn’t enough time left for him to be put into prison. He would get away with his last act of defiance, he knew. So as soon as he left the building, Toolo sighed to himself and took to the sky, now ready to return home and face his fate. ---- Toolo’s three children - two boys and girl - were waiting for him when he returned to them. All three were covered in mud from the play they had been engaged in in their backyard. Their nanny was snoozing up against a tree. Toolo smiled, but he felt it quickly fade from his lips. They will never be this happy again. This is the end, truly. “Children!” he said in as fatherly a voice he could in these trying times. “How are you?” “Papa!” his girl Arla screamed, jumping for joy and running to him. Toolo dropped to one knee to hug her as she reached him. He looked up just in time to see the two boys follow suit. “We were playing. Nan said it was okay, I swear” his oldest son, Coro, said, nodding to the sleeping nanny. “It was fun! Look how messy we got!” his other son, Alcaeus, roared in merriment. Toolo smiled and listened to their stories for some time. Afterwards, he got up and played with them, hurling mud at them like soldiers would hurl ki blasts, and dodging the mud his children threw back at him with mock desperation. He chased the around the house and tree until his three kids became tired and fell to the grass, their small chests expanding and contracting fiercely. “Papa, I want to go to bed! I’m tired!” Arla said earnestly. Toolo glanced up to the sky and saw the sun was just beginning to set. There isn’t much time. “Soon,” he told his daughter. “I wanted to take you three somewhere first. Are you able to fly with me?” he asked them. His two boys puffed out their chests and nodded. Toolo almost had to laugh at their naive, stout behavior. He had been like that too, when he had been their ages, proud and dauntless, always trying to please father. He patted Coro on the shoulder and nodded to Alcaeus, giving them each affectionate signs of approval. “No, I’m too tired!” Arla complained. So Toolo picked her up, tucking her close into his chest. He would not let anything stop what he was going to do. However, as he was about to take off with his two older boys, the nanny awoke. “Oh, Master Toolo, I didn’t see you had come home! I must have… fallen asleep for a moment! I must apologize.” “More like all day!” Coro whispered. The two boys giggled and high-fived one another. Toolo turned back to the nanny. “It’s all right, nan. The children are fine. I’m going to take them to watch the sunset and then I’ll be back to put them to sleep. You can go back to sleep if you want; it doesn’t matter to me.” She raised her hand and nodded, yawning as she did. Toolo was certain that by the time he had turned back around and kicked off the ground with his sons, she was already fast asleep. She had never been a particularly good nanny, but she was the only one he could afford. She often fell asleep on the job, allowing his children to get into whatever they wanted. That day they had wandered into town alone and nearly gotten themselves run over by some Kanassan merchant cars, he had considered firing her. But his resentment was never long-lasting, and his anger would always evaporate with time. And besides, Toolo couldn’t afford to let her go. The least he could do was let her sleep these last few hours before her death. Who knows? Maybe the apes will get her in her sleep. Maybe she won’t feel a thing. The wind was picking up as they flew south. Toolo loved flying and feeling the cold wind on his face made him feel more alive than anything else he had ever experienced. He glanced over to his sons and saw them enjoying it as well. They were very much his blood. Toolo had taught them to fly only a six months ago. And here they were, soaring through the air as if they had known how to their whole lives, as if they had been born with wings. He felt pride for them swelling up in his throat. Toolo guided his sons to a plateau about three miles south of his house. Out here, it was wild. There were many feral animals lurking about, and birds flew and chirped through the evening air, bringing life into it. He breathed it all in as he landed, tasting the sweetness of the air. It made him feel happy for a moment. Then, taking his children to the edge of the plateau, Toolo had them all sit down and watch the sun set. The Kanassan sky was streaked with oranges and purples and blues, and veritably the clouds were large and puffy today. The entire scene was beautiful, Toolo knew. He was thankful for that at least. Toolo took three small bottles out of a pouch on his shirt and handed them to his children. “Sweet tea,” he told them. “It’s a present for you guys being so good today. And it’ll relax you and help you sleep too.” “But how are we going to get home if we all fall asleep?” Coro asked, suspiciously. “I’ll carry you. Don’t worry about me. I was in the Kanassan army, remember. I’m stronger than you think!” he said with a wink. He saw the looks soften on his children’s faces and breathed a sigh of relief The kids took their bottles and tore open the tops like starving jackals. He watched as Arla and Alcaeus drank down their tea quickly, but Coro only took small sips. Maybe he was savoring it. “It’s good, papa!” Arla squeaked, holding up her empty bottle to him. “Yeah, where did you get it, dad?” Alcaeus chipped in. “It was a present from a co-worker,” Toolo replied dryly. It was hard to lie to his kids. It really was. But he had to. “But come on, let’s talk about something different. Look,” he said enthusiastically, “that cloud looks just like Nan, doesn’t it?” His children laughed at that. They took his lead, and soon Arla was seeing everyone in her school amongst the clouds. Alcaeus saw all of his friends in them. Toolo hugged them tightly with either hand. But even as he did, he kept an eye on Coro, who was sitting farther off and not engaging with the others. He had only taken two sips of his tea. Toolo didn’t say anything then. He didn’t want to force Coro to drink. He didn’t want them to get into an argument. Not now. Not here. As the sun began to set, Toolo heard Alcaeus and Arla’s speech start to slow and slur and soon, they barely said anything. Their bodies became limp in his arms and soon they were asleep. Toolo’s heart was beating furiously. Just a few more seconds. Just a few more seconds and it’ll all be over. He felt tears coming on, and his throat was raw. He could barely contain himself, especially with Coro still awake. He looked over to his boy and saw that he had barely touched his tea. Panic ran through Toolo’s heart. No! What is he doing?! “Drink your tea, son,” Toolo said to Coro in a forced, calm voice. Even as he did, he felt the breathing of his other two children start to fade. He had to be quick about this, but he couldn’t be inconsiderate. He didn’t want Coro’s last memory to be of an unforgiving father. “I don’t like it,” Coro admitted. “It’s too sweet.” “Just drink it… please. It was expensive.” Coro looked at Toolo in the eyes. There was something fluttering about in them that Toolo didn’t like. “I had a dream last night, dad.” “What happened in it?” “It was night and there was a full moon. I saw all of the cities burning and… and…” Coro’s voice quavered and his eyes filled with tears. “I-I saw all of us being stomped by a bunch of huge apes. We didn’t make it… no one did. I-it was a nightmare, I think.” Toolo’s heart froze inside him. He felt goosebumps cover his skin. No. He’s a seer. He’s had his first dream. Why now?! Why must my son dream that?! He had to try much harder this time to not cry and let loose his emotions like an overflowing dam. He had to maintain composure. After a good while, Toolo gulped and spoke with a voice as dry as bone, “You are having the dreams of a seer. What you dream will come to pass, in the future.” Coro’s eyes became two white, horrified pools. “Bu-but… that means…” Toolo’s eyes were wet now. He couldn’t hold back his emotions any longer. “Son… please, just drink the tea. It’ll make this all go away.” Coro looked at Toolo, horrified, and then stole a glance back at his almost untouched bottle of poison. Realization began to dawn on his face. “No! This isn’t tea! This is… this is…” Coro’s voice faltered just as the last bit of sun sunk below the horizon. It would be light for a few more minutes, but already, the moon was sitting high in the sky, glowing bright white. It was full. Coro saw it; he understood it. And then he looked back at Toolo. Toolo nodded gravely, tears rolling down his cheeks. He felt the last shallow breaths of his two youngest children finally stop. They’re gone. Dead. And I killed them. How can I ever be forgiven for what I have done? It’s me who’s monster, not the apes who are coming tonight. I have done something truly evil. Why did the gods have to curse our race with foresight? Why do we have to suffer through the pain of knowing our own ends? “Coro… please… you must. I c-can’t bear to see you hurt.” His son was close to bawling, he knew. But there wasn’t time. He saw Coro look over at his dead siblings. Toolo didn’t know if Coro could tell they were gone. He didn’t want to know what his son was going through in his mind. And then Coro let out a sob, grabbed his bottle, and downed its contents in one gulp. With a shudder, he stood up and started wobbling about, crying his heart out. “Come here, son. Come here!” Toolo pleaded, lifting an arms from one dead child to a dying one. He felt pride once again swelling in his throat, though it was a perverted pride. His son had just mustered up the courage to do the unthinkable. He was a brave boy, Toolo knew. “Father!” he cried, embracing Toolo. Toolo tried to sooth his son. “It’ll be alright, C-coro. Quiet now. Don’t think about it.” “But I’m scared.” “I’m scared too… but it’ll all be over soon.” “A-are they… dead?” Coro asked sullenly, looking to the unmoving younger children. Toolo nodded and felt his son’s cries come harder still. Coro pushed his head deep into Toolo’s shirt, his tears unabated, and his sorrow uncontained. Each cry cut Toolo right through his heart. How could he put his son through this? “It’s okay, son,” Toolo said, trying to console Coro again. He was trying to compose himself once again. “Don’t think about it. Just close your eyes and sleep. When this is over, we will all be together again. We’ll even see Mom again.” Coro looked up at his father. “Y-you mean it? Mom’s going to be there?” “Yes,” Toolo said. “She’s waiting for us right now. And you know how Mom is. We shouldn’t make her wait long.” Coro half laughed and half cried. “Y-yeah.” He embraced Toolo tightly. “I love you, dad.” “I love you too,” Toolo replied between fitful chokes of sadness. He held his son in his arms as if he had nothing else left in the world. Toolo watched the sky for a while thereafter. His eyes mostly stayed fixated on the moon, though they strayed every now and then. He felt Coro’s grip lessen after some time, and then he knew he was finally alone. At that moment, the cold and despair overtook Toolo. To have to do this to his children was something no parent should ever have to do. He had done a grievous thing. They were all supposed to die at the great apes’ hands. Toolo had seen it specifically in his dreams. But he wouldn’t allow it. He changed his future. He changed their futures. With as much power as he had, anyway. The delegates and the other Kanassans were stuck in their own ways, blinded to the truth and to the future. They wouldn’t see it coming, as much as he had tried to pound it into their thick skulls. They wouldn’t be able to change the future, as much as the military commander had assured Toolo. We can’t change the outcome, but we can change how we get there, Toolo thought. They were all going to die tonight no matter what. He owed it to his children to make it as peaceful and painless as possible. He only wished he had grabbed enough poison for himself as well. He wanted some, badly. He wanted the pain to go away. But he couldn’t die just yet. Toolo sighed and sat back. The sadness had enveloped him in totality. He had cried his eyes out and the emotions he felt had caused his entire body to go numb. Maybe there would be a special kind of hell for him in the next life; he hoped against all hope that it would not be so. Killing his children might be seen as unforgivable. But he hoped at least they would forgive him, that at least they would know why he did it. This life was over for Toolo; that he knew. He just wanted to die and be reunited with his children and wife. His wife had died birthing Arla. It would be good to see her again, after all these years. That thought was all that drove him now. The promise of his family in the next world was all Toolo wanted. He wanted a return to the happiness he had once felt. That happiness seemed like it had been in another lifetime after what he had just done - it was as if Toolo hadn’t experienced any joy in so long that he could not properly remember how it felt. Soon, he thought. I’ll be with you soon. But my job’s not done yet. Toolo slipped Coro’s body off of him and stood up, staring at the moon. The plateau had become quiet since his children had drank the poison. Even the animals had fallen into quiet, though Toolo knew not if it was because they had run away or if they actually knew what was going on. He felt shivers race across his numb body. Toolo could not die quite yet. He had a score to settle with the apes who were coming. He knew what he had to do. He would give them the same foresight he had so they would have to deal with the pain he had just endured. He could not best them in battle, but he could defeat them another way. This life is cruel, and if you can’t be cruel back, you’ll get hurt. I’ll make the apes feel what I’ve felt. I’ll make them experience the pain I have. If I can’t defeat them in battle, I’ll make them hurt in another way. A more terrible way. And as Toolo was thinking to himself and gazing up at the full moon, he saw the glint of several small spaceships fly across the dark sky as they entered the Kanassan atmosphere. Category:Fan Fiction Category:Canon Respecting Category:One Shot Category:Stories Featuring Bardock Category:Stories Featuring Toolo